The Xenomorph Chronicles
by Sphynxia
Summary: A series of one-shots inspired by the amazing RoguePL's art on deviantArt. Read, enjoy, and DO NOT STEAL ANYTHING.


My first Xenomorph story

_My first Xenomorph story. I've never really __work with them; although I practically worship these creatures, I'm more of a Yautja/Human writer. :D So bear with me._

_This__ one-shot series is planned on the drawings of RoguePL on deviantart:_

_roguepl._

_The theme picture for this:_

_roguepl./art/Bang-bang-74196125?offset25#comments_

**Disclaimer: I ****do NOT own both the OC and the Xenomorphs. I wish I could, though…**

Darkness. All around. Stars glittering. The fat moon shining out every other light. The red, fat, floating moon. The pubs all crowded, watching the game. Everyone screaming, swearing, whining and laughing. Cheering, all drunk. Music to my ears. My steps echoing in the street, making funny cling-clang noises. _Whee._ How fun. I have had found a new hobby. I looked around. In the pubs. Loads of men. Drunk, savage, smelling. Completely gross. Suddenly, a loud cheer echoed. Probably a score for the Wildcats, the official team of the town. I wondered, who scored? But no, we didn't want any _distractions_, did we now? A silent, wicked chuckle echoed in my ears. We were ready in action.

I passed onto another street, my silky black hair floating behind me. No cheering voices this time. Just silence. Then suddenly, a scream. A heart-tearing, frightened scream. Then another. Good, good. More music to my ears. The leading tunes of the melody of the night. Quickly, I moved towards the voice. A feeling of being followed crept in me. Even better. My night stalker's here. I'm being watched again. I'm always being watched. By my creators. Invisible, god-like creators. Observing me, keeping records of me. Like a lab experiment. I think I'm fine with that. I _**WAS**_ created and meant to be one, after all. Running towards the pleas for help and the screaming, I took out my only weapon, my Glock 36. One shot would be enough. Blood boiling in my veins with excitement. The thrill of killing. The overwhelming feeling of the hunt. I stopped dead in my tracks, hiding right behind a trashcan. Watching the monster eager to kill the frightened victim, to tear his limbs apart, but trying to get him out of his hiding place. Leaning a little further, I stepped on something on purpose. With the occasional cracking sound, the mad killer turned its head at my direction, and then disappeared out of sight. I rose from behind the trashcan, and started walking in the dead end slowly, calmly. _One step after another._ **"Come out, little fella, come out and play."** I whispered. **"Come out; come out, where ever you are."**

Suddenly, the killer jumped somewhere from my left, snarling. I threw myself slightly to the right, avoiding the creature. Just as the fella's feet landed on the cemetery and as it jumped up high for another attack, I pointed my gun at the figure and shot it from its vital point at the head. Lifelessly, he dropped on the ground in midair. **"This is my game, fucker." **I stepped on the long, black, eyeless head. Bent a little to check its life status. Dead, no doubt. A pile of acid blood got on my hand. I simply wiped it away. No injuries, no burning. I was created to be like them. _The same blood. The same instinct._ Another scream reached my ears. The bugs were out loud tonight. Pouring some gasoline mixture on the dead creature, lighting a match and throwing it on him, I watched the creature burn to ashes. My grip on my smoking Glock tightened. I peeked at the other street, then started running towards the other dead end. Leaving the victim behind. No explanation, no nothing. My night stalker probably following behind me, cloaked. I entered at the other dead end. Three Xenomorphs stared at me from their deliriously frightened prey, which wasn't harmed. Yet. I smirked, looking back at the black serpents. Using the Xenomorphs' distracted states, the prey ran away. Alas, they didn't move. They were waiting for me. To attack. I slid back the slide. I only had to do, to say one thing to get the groove on. And I said it.

"**Who's next?"**

And the dance started.


End file.
